To Love Like Fools
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: 3 Months after the phone call, Sherlock and Molly are inseparable best friends. But, lately, Sherlock has been giving mixed signals, giving Molly emotional whiplash. Silliness and romance ensues. Plus, Mary's alive and kickin!
1. Girls' Night Part 1

_**'It's a crime against the heart you know, to be somewhere in between.'**_

 **-I Won't Disagree by Kate Voegele**

* * *

Molly was getting more confused as time went on. Everything was so complicated after the Sherrinford incident, but even more so was her relationship with Sherlock. They weren't exactly together, but they weren't just friends either. They were caught somewhere in between as if neither of them knew how to proceed. They hadn't kissed; they only acknowledged the love they felt for one another. Not another step was made, and so, she felt suspended in midair, not knowing which direction to take. His newfound emotions (and boy, was he an emotional man) were giving her whiplash.

They were the best of friends who had keys to each other's flats. Every weekend they were both free, one or the other would bring takeaway and spend nights watching crap telly or murder documentaries together. Sometimes it would happen in 221B, and other times it would be at Molly's flat. They usually slept over on these nights, sharing the bed or sofa, and always woke wrapped up in each other's arms.

Lately, Sherlock had been seemingly hesitant around her. He would open his mouth to say something only to close it again or move closer to her before backing away. It was as if he was scared of her. Molly didn't want him to feel this way and was frustrated that he constantly went back and forth; one day he'd be so loving and the next, flippant. She just didn't know what to do anymore. That's why she called up Mary after Sherlock and John left for a case in Manchester for the weekend. She needed a girls' night. Mrs. Hudson had agreed to watch Rosie overnight for Mary whilst they spent the night at Molly's flat.

"I don't know, Mary," Molly sighed, "I've no idea what's going through his head. If he's scared of us becoming more, I get that, I do, but I wish he'd just talk to me. He trusts me with his life…"

"But?" Mary encouraged.

"…But I don't think he trusts me with his heart," Molly finished. "Have I ever given him reason to not trust me with it?"

"No, I think he does trust you with his heart," Mary told her, "but maybe it's because of that fact that he's scared." Molly furrowed her brows in confusion. "He's scared he'll mess everything up when you two have it so good right now."

"I suppose that makes sense. Relationships were never his area and now he has no footing," she replied. "Well, enough about him. Let's just relax tonight."

* * *

One hour and three glasses of wine later, Molly was a little tipsy. Mary held her alcohol much better and was slightly amused at the fact that her friend was ranting about Sherlock again.

"I mean, what does he even do in his flat when I'm not there aside from experiments or take cases?" she asked. "Does he have any secrets that neither John or I are privy to?" A few silent moments passed before she spoke up again. "I love the way he smells. I love sleeping beside him and his sheets smell like him. Sometimes my sheets smell like him. I left a pair of pajamas in his room that smell like him. Doesn't he smell so good?"

"Mm," Mary smirked, taking a sip from her glass.

"I miss him," Molly half-sobbed.

"Now, now, don't cry," Mary comforted her, rubbing Molly's back in a motherly manner. "Tears won't get you anywhere. He'll be back on Monday." This only made Molly cry more. "You have a key to his flat. Let's just pop in so you can be wine drunk there and get the pajamas you left," she laughed, clearly joking.

"Mary, that's perfect!" Molly exclaimed, perking right up.

"Love, I was just joking," she explained.

"Pleaseeeeee?" Molly begged like a child, her eyes wide and her bottom lip sticking out.

"Oh, alright," she gave in. "It's not like he'll catch us."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The title of this story comes from the song 'Fools' by Lauren Aquilina. It is the most Sherlolly song you'll ever hear.

2 songs inspired this chapter: Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran & I Won't Disagree by Kate Voegele.


	2. Girls' Night Part 2

_**'Kindly unspoken**_

 _ **You show your emotion**_

 _ **And silence speaks louder than words.**_

 _ **It's lucky I'm clever**_

 _ **Cause if I didn't know better**_

 _ **I'd believe only that which I'd heard'.**_

 **\- Kindly Unspoken by Kate Voegele**

* * *

"It's gotta be somewhere," Molly said, digging through a pile of clothes on Sherlock's bedroom floor. "Unless…"

"Unless?" Mary asked. There wasn't a reply. Molly just moved to his dresser, looking in the drawers for her pajamas. "Not there?"

"Nope," she answered, Sherlock's aubergine dress shirt in her hands. "But, this'll do."

"Don't. Stop," Mary spoke sarcastically. Truthfully, she didn't think Sherlock would even mind that Molly took his shirt. She couldn't help but laugh at the fact that Molly had already stripped down to her knickers and slipped on Sherlock's shirt, buttoning it up. She threw her hair haphazardly into a messy bun and ran out to the sitting room and hooked her phone up to the radio, playing music.

"Dance with me," Molly grinned. She was now donning the infamous deerstalker on her head. Mary shrugged and joined in. It would be revenge for interrupting John's proposal to her all those months ago.

"You are just a ball of energy tonight," Mary laughed.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes and I can't tell the woman who already knows I love her that I love her," Molly mimicked. Their energy wore off and Molly stumbled over to Sherlock's bookshelf. "You know, I never actually noticed just how many books he has." She read the titles, stopping when she found a large binder and pulled it off the shelf.

"What's that?" Mary asked, intrigued. Molly opened it and saw it was full of essays and medical journal pages in those plastic sleeves to protect them.

"These are all my essays, including the ones that didn't even make it into any medical journals," Molly gasped. She flipped through it, each essay having her name written on it. "Why does he have these? He must have been collecting since we met. Look, this one is from 2009. It was my first attempt at getting an essay published."

"Damn," was all Mary could say.

"God, this is wrong," Molly sighed. "I shouldn't be snooping like this."

"I'm sure he won't be upset with you," Mary told her. The binder was put back into place on the shelf.

"I just broke his trust, Mary," she cried. "I'm a terrible friend. Oh my God, I've ruined everything."

"Hey, that's not true, love," Mary consoled her. "He'll forgive you." She turned into Mary's arms and cried a while longer. They were too tired to take a cab back to her flat, so Mary ended up crashing on the sofa and Molly crashed in Sherlock's bed, unaware of the door opening.

Sherlock entered his flat to find it in more disarray than usual. He noticed Mary asleep on the sofa immediately and investigated further. There was an imprint in his chair of a small bum that he'd know anywhere. _Molly_. The binder of her essays was sticking out further than usual and he knew she had found it. Molly's phone was still plugged into the radio. They were obviously dancing. But where was she?

There she was, in his bed, snuggled into his pillows and duvet with the deerstalker on her head. He smiled at her sleeping form, sitting beside her, brushing a small, stray piece of hair behind her ear. Slowly, he removed the hat from her head and tossed it aside.

"I don't know exactly why you were here, Molly, but I'm glad you are," he spoke quietly, pressing a kiss to her cheek, also noting the smell of wine on her breath. She stirred in her sleep, aware of his presence as she reached out for his hand. He laced his fingers with hers and squeezed affectionately.

"You're not mad?" she asked sleepily, sitting up. He smiled softly at her.

"No, I'm not mad," he replied. "I could never be mad at you…is that my shirt?" Her face flushed more than it already was from the alcohol.

"I'm sorry I snooped," Molly told him. He chuckled at that. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. "You just honestly thought I'd be upset you decided to play detective and saw that I have all of your essays?"

"Why do you have them?" she asked.

"Because I've always admired your work," he answered. "And, though I was in denial, I've always lov—been fond of you." Molly's smile disappeared when he changed his choice of words. This did not go undetected by him. "Go to sleep, Molly. We can talk in the morning."

"Love you," she mumbled, snuggling back into the pillows.

When he knew she was sound asleep, he replied, "I love you too."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The song that Molly and Mary dances to is called Watch Me Do by Meghan Trainor (It's super fun!)


	3. Worth It

_**'This is the start of something beautiful.  
This is the start of something new.'**_

 **-This by Ed Sheeran**

* * *

The next morning, Molly woke slowly, her eyes adjusting to the light streaming through the curtained window. She gasped when she took in her environment, realizing she was in Sherlock's bed. Speaking of the consulting detective, he was smiling at her with amusement.

"Morning," he smirked.

"Is Mary still here?" she asked.

"Nope," he replied. "I told her to go ahead and go home with Rosie." Molly groaned in pain, her head pounding. "You, my dear, have a bit of a hangover and I intend to nurse you back to health. There's peppermint tea on the table beside you. It should help that headache of yours."

"Thanks," Molly smiled, taking the warm cup in her hands. She sipped on it slowly, her eyes searching his. "So, what happened with the case?"

"Oh that? It turned out it was hardly a four. Waste of time, really. Solved it in a few hours," Sherlock waved his hand. "The real mystery is why I came home to you and Mary passed out."

"I'm sorry. It was stupid and I'll never do it again," Molly said, leaning her head against him.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Molly, cheer up," he told her. "I'm just curious is all."

"I missed you," she mumbled. "I couldn't find the pajamas I left here and—"

"You mean these pajamas?" he chuckled, holding up her cotton nightgown.

"Where did you find it?" she asked. "I searched all over."

"I had it in my suitcase," Sherlock confessed. Molly's eyes lit up in question. "I may have done so because I knew I'd miss you too. And it…smells like you." His face flushed with embarrassment.

Molly set the tea aside and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him. Surprising to her, he returned her affections. And much to his surprise, she kissed his cheek. Even though he had yet to make their relationship official, she would settle for this friendship of theirs that felt as if it had been set on fire. She would wait until he felt ready. At least now she truly knew that he loved her as much as she loved him.

"We all do silly things," she reminded him.

"Yes, we do, don't we?" he asked, remembering their conversation all those years ago.

* * *

Molly had gone home to get a change of clothes after she helped Sherlock clean up his flat a bit. After all, it was the least she could do after having a party for two in it. When she returned, there was takeaway from Angelo's set out on the coffee table.

"Ah, Molly, there you are," he greeted her.

"Hello to you too," she laughed. "It's only been a couple of hours. What documentaries do we have…" her words trailed off, noticing the choices of material. "These are all—"

"Your favourites, yes," he finished. "I took the liberty of procuring them. We never watch anything you enjoy."

"I enjoy the documentaries," she pointed out.

"Well," he began, "okay, yes, but that's not fun for you, is it? These are all fictional choices."

"Sherlock, I really appreciate this, but I don't want you to get bored," Molly told him.

"I assure you, I won't be bored," he told her. "Pick whichever you'd like." She selected Beauty and the Beast for obvious reasons, hoping the message of it would reach him in correlation to their own relationship.

He had planned to watch Molly more than the movie, but he couldn't seem to avert his eyes from the telly. At one point, Molly had cuddled up against him. He held her, pressing a kiss to her temple. Sherlock knew he had to say something—anything—to initiate a real romantic entanglement, but he was terrified. He wanted every piece of her, and she was being so patient with him.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, noticing the worry in his eyes.

"I haven't been fair to you," he replied. "You are aware of my…sentiments for you. I've kept you waiting long enough."

"Sherlock, you don't have to rush into anything. I'll wait as long as you need me to," Molly told him. "I know you're scared. If it makes you feel better, I'm scared too."

"But?" he continued.

"But, some things are worth the risk," she finished. "You are worth the risk. I just hope you feel that I'm worth it too."

"Of course you're worth it, Molly," he assured her. "I—" Her eyes lit up in anticipation. Instead of the words she longed to hear again after that dreadful phone call, she felt his lips press against hers fervently. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and she opened up enough to let him in. Their hearts were beating so hard, it felt like it was the only sound in the room.

"Mm," she hummed against his mouth, their noses brushing together.

"I love you," he murmured in between kisses. Her reply was cut off when he kissed her again. And again. "My Molly. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Whatever for?" she asked, breathless.

"For making you wait so long," he replied. His lips were now pressed to her pulse point and she felt him smile against her skin before he ran his tongue along it.

"Yes," she gasped in pleasure. "Of course I forgive you." He wrapped her up in his arms, holding her close, never wanting to let go. Molly sank into his touch immediately, reveling in the warm embrace. All at once, they both felt they were finally home.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Don't worry, there will be more shenanigans to come as they learn to navigate their relationship.


	4. Making Plans

_**'I don't wanna live a day without you. I just wanna be the one that makes you happy.'**_

 **\- Happy by Secrets In Stereo**

* * *

Three weeks passed in which two of them Sherlock had spent outside of London on yet another case Mycroft assigned him. Normally, he wouldn't have taken it, but doing so meant that Mycroft owed him a favor. So, Sherlock planned to take advantage of it. He was quite upset at not having been able to spend the first couple of weeks of their relationship with her.

"Oh hey, leaving early?" Molly asked, elbows deep in a cadaver. Sherlock had been in the lab prior to his appearance in the morgue with John and Greg.

"Yep," Sherlock replied. "Greg has a case for me."

"It's baffled all of Scotland Yard," Lestrade added.

"Hardly surprising," Sherlock rolled his eyes. He noticed the look Molly gave him and muttered a quick apology. He pressed a not-so-chaste kiss to her lips.

"Is that a lung?" Lestrade asked, nodding toward the organ in Molly's hand, mildly disgusted.

"Those two are going to need an extra lung if they carry on snogging like that," John laughed.

"I don't see how it would help as this man is obviously dead," Molly quipped.

"That's my girl," Sherlock smirked. The three of them headed out of the morgue, leaving her to work in silence.

* * *

When Molly returned home from work, she looked around at her flat that sounded much too quiet. Ever since Toby had passed months ago, just before the Sherrinford incident, Molly had always felt something was off. She still had Toby's food bowl and his toys strewn about. She didn't even hear Sherlock come in.

"If it's any consolation, I liked Toby," his baritone voice spoke in her ear softly.

"Mary suggested I get a new cat, but I just don't know," Molly said, choking up. "I miss him."

"I'm sorry, darling," Sherlock wrapped his arms around her.

"How was the case?" she asked, wanting to change the subject.

"Brilliant, actually. It was a team effort," he replied. "One murderer and two accomplices."

"That's awful," Molly remarked.

"Indeed. But enough about that," Sherlock spoke with enthusiasm. "I believe I was promised a night with pirates and comedy." Molly smiled at him. She had suggested The Princess Bride for movie night and assured him he would love it. At the very mention of pirates, his eyes lit up.

They were snuggled up on her sofa, a knit afghan shared between them. Molly loved these little moments with him. They meant more to her than any grand display of romance. They made each other happy and that's all that mattered. She could tell he was enjoying the film as he actually laughed with her throughout it; a sound she loved hearing.

* * *

Later that night, as Molly laid her head on his chest, she noticed he was in deep thought.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" she wondered.

"Do you have plans for next weekend?" he asked in response.

"Nope," she replied, popping the 'p' like he does. This got her a smirk from him. "Why?"

"We haven't been able to really spend much time with each other lately and I called in a favor with Mycroft," he explained.

"What kind of favor?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"A weekend away for us in a cottage in Sussex," Sherlock told her. "No distractions, just us."

"I'd love that, Sherlock," she told him. He hummed in delight as her lips pressed against his sweetly. In that moment, he got the feeling that maybe he wasn't as rubbish of a boyfriend as he once thought he'd be.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Anyone up for a roadtrip to Sussex? lol


	5. Happier

With everything packed and in the boot of Mrs. Hudson's car, Sherlock and Molly were on their way to the village of Bury in West Sussex. The sassy landlady wasn't keen on lending out her car, but when he told her it was because he was taking Molly on holiday for the weekend, she happily allowed it. Sherlock looked over at Molly in the passenger seat, smiling as she sang along with the Ed Sheeran album she brought to listen to; he was a current artist that Sherlock actually liked, thanks to Molly introducing him to his music. The lyrics playing hit him hard in good ways and bad.

 ** _'Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you. But ain't nobody love you like I do. Promise that I will not take it personal, baby, if you're moving on with someone new. 'Cause baby, you look happier, you do.'_**

He was painfully reminded of the day they spent together solving crimes, only to be heartbroken at her engagement. At the time, she seemed happier than he'd ever seen. Sherlock knew he hurt her multiple times, but like the song mentioned, nobody else loved her like he did. After the sad memories faded, he now realized that right here in this moment, Molly was even happier than she was then. It prided him to know he made her happy, that he no longer caused her unnecessary pain.

"You okay?" she asked when the song changed.

"Hm? Oh, yes," he replied. "In fact, I'm more than okay."

"Oh?"

"I've never been happier, darling," he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You have the most gorgeous smile I've ever seen; it's not fair," she laughed. Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle at that, for he thought Molly had the most gorgeous smile. She gasped when he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

"I love you, Molly Hooper," he spoke softly.

"I love you too, Sherlock Holmes," she smiled brightly. The way she said his name sent his heart aflutter. It was as if his name only contained the best letters of the alphabet. Often he wondered how it would sound if she called him by his true first name; perhaps an experiment to enact at a later time.

Molly had no idea what he had planned for them this weekend—or maybe he hadn't actually planned anything which would be very unlike him, but she was happy either way. A part of her wondered if he was ready to take the next step in their relationship; that maybe this is what this whole trip was about. If that was his plan, she was definitely not complaining. And if not, she still wouldn't complain, because a weekend alone with Sherlock, away from the hustle and bustle of London, was nothing short of a dream getaway.

* * *

After ninety minutes on the road, they finally arrived at their destination. The quaint cottage was enchanting. It was brick and had a thatched roof with a chimney. The floral bushes out front only gave a small preview of the garden in the back that Molly would soon discover. Sherlock insisted she go on inside and explore whilst he retrieved their bags. When he entered the cozy sitting room, he saw her face all lit up.

"Oh, this is so lovely," she mused. "Sherlock, this is perfect." He set the bags down and wrapped his arms around her from behind, setting his chin on her shoulder.

"I'm glad you think so," he told her with a kiss pressed to her cheek. He followed her to the double doors that led out into the garden and her eyes sparkled. There were varying plants throughout, a small table for two and a pond where two ducks were currently swimming.

When they returned inside, Sherlock grabbed their bags and brought them straight into the bedroom. The walls were white with a couple of photos hung above the queen size bed. There was a small table on either side of the bed as well with a lamp on each.

"Are you hungry?" Sherlock asked.

"Definitely," she answered. They ate a small breakfast before they left but it was getting close to lunchtime now. Stepping outside of the bedroom, Molly watched Sherlock getting plates and utensils out. He knew exactly where everything was. "Sherlock?"

"Yes?" he replied.

"I have a deduction of my own," she smirked. He stopped what he was doing to give her his full attention, waiting for her to continue. "You know this place really well. You've been here before haven't you?"

"You are correct," he smiled. "This is actually my parents' cottage. They rarely use it anymore and Mycroft had the key to it. I was never allowed to have the key during the years of my many danger nights for obvious reasons. But, in all actuality, the cottage is really mine. Mycroft didn't want it."

"Really? I'd love to have a place in the country like this," Molly told him. "I had to sell the cottage I grew up in after my dad passed because I needed the money to put me through school."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"It's alright. It was hard to let go of, but had I not gone to school for my career, you and I would never have met," she explained. "I'd rather have you than my parents' old cottage. You're my home now, Sherlock."

It was no secret now that Sherlock was a more emotional man than he let others believe, but he definitely wasn't one to cry easily. But, somehow, Molly's words brought tears of happiness to his eyes. Molly noticed the state she had accidentally brought him to and embraced him tightly. She felt him kiss the top of her head, his arms holding her close.

"You're my home too." His voice was all broken up but his heart was far from feeling shattered.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Photos of the cottage are on my ao3. As I've said before, I really do prefer ao3 over this site for the reason that I can provide visuals on that site.


	6. Booming Thunder, Pounding Hearts

**Author's Note:** I was advised to up the rating on this because of a general overview of a particular scene, though it is not explicit. So, if that's still not your thing, you can just skip over where it gets too steamy for you.

* * *

The clouds began rolling in during the early afternoon. Molly and Sherlock had been sitting at the table in the garden after lunch. They were talking about everything and nothing, their hands laced together across the table. The first few drops of rain were felt not long before it started pouring down. Molly let out a small squeal of surprise, laughing at their soaked state. Sherlock grabbed her hand before she made it inside, pulling her to him, snogging the breath out of her. They still stood under the falling rain, their foreheads pressed together, and Molly brushed her nose against his affectionately.

After they changed out of their wet clothes and into pajamas, Molly found Sherlock digging through the hallway closet.

"Looking for something?" she asked. He turned to her and smiled, thinking she looked adorable in her pink and black polka dot shorts and black camisole. Her hair was still damp and she had braided it into pigtails, which would result in waves in the morning.

"Actually, I just found it," he replied, taking down a small stack of board games. She saw that Scrabble and Cluedo were among them. "Are you up for it?"

"The game is on," she smirked.

* * *

"Arsenic? Should I be worried?" Sherlock joked, making Molly laugh. They had decided to play Scrabble with periodic table elements only to make it more challenging. The sound of the heavy rain could be heard along with the crackling fire they sat in front of.

"You're worried that arsenic is the element I spelled out rather than the fact your girlfriend is a pathologist who could easily cover up a murder?" Molly asked him.

"Nonsense," he remarked. "You're not just merely my girlfriend. You're more than that." Molly felt her heart swell with all the love she held for him.

"It's your turn," she gestured toward the board, not sure why she was covering up how much his words had affected her. They went back and forth, attempting to spell out elements. Molly had won in the end, spelling Molybdenum.

They had just begun a game of Cluedo when the first big boom of thunder sounded. Molly jumped up off the floor quite literally, scrambling straight into Sherlock's arms, their character pieces knocked over.

"It's alright, Molly," he spoke softly, attempting to hold back his laughter. Her quick reflexes reminded him that of a cat.

"Sorry," her voice was muffled from her face being buried against his shoulder. "It just caught me by surprise is all." He rocked her in his arms for a moment until she felt better. They continued their game after the pieces were standing upright once more. They played up until another crash of thunder sounded and lightning flashed through the windows, causing the power to go out.

The game was set aside, whilst Sherlock attempted to fix the breakers, but nothing worked.

"Looks like we'll have to wait for it to come back on its own," he told her. "I'm sorry, Molly."

"What for?" she asked. "You don't control the weather."

"I just wanted to give you a nice weekend away," he sighed, clearly frustrated.

"Now, who said it hasn't been a nice weekend. I do enjoy thunderstorms," she told him. "And you're here with me." This made him smile before he quickly lifted her up into his arms in one fell swoop. "Sherlock! What are you doing?" She was giggling, whether by surprise or the small glass of wine she had, she didn't know.

He led her to the bedroom and laid her down, kissing her so tenderly, her heart was soaring. The words forming on her lips were never voiced as she felt him nibble on her ear and trace her skin with the tip of his tongue. Her fingers were buried in his curls, gently running through them. He kissed the soft swell of her breasts before pressing his lips to hers once more. She felt rather than heard him moan as their tongues tasted each other. His hands laced with hers, pressed down into the pillows.

The thunder did not compare to the sound of their hearts beating fast in their chest. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him closer to her. Sherlock felt her nose brush against his and he placed a kiss on the tip of it much to her delight. He felt he could kiss her forever; stay in this cottage and grow old with her.

"I love you," he whispered, the look in his eyes making her stomach flutter.

"And I you, my sweet William," Molly replied, lost in the moment. She felt she could drown in his eyes. He blinked, unsure if he had heard her right. No, she definitely called him William. His theory was right; it sounded just as wonderful, if not more, from her lips. "Oh God, sorry, I just…" she trailed off. He kissed her again. And again. And again.

"Don't be sorry," he told her. His lips moved down over her neck, kissing her pulse point. She gasped as she felt the tip of his tongue trace the swell of her breast. "Want you." His words were hardly audible, but she heard him clearly.

"Are you sure?" she asked, lifting his head to look at her.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "Yes," he repeated before kissing her gently.

They made love slowly, reveling in every touch and every kiss. He had played her so beautifully like the violin he often composed on. He was concerned when she cried, but she assured him he did not hurt her; that it was out of happiness. They laughed together throughout, mostly in disbelief that they were finally connected as one. It had been a wonderful, beautiful moment between them. The sound of the rain and thunder nearly swallowed the sounds they made.

* * *

Sherlock held her in his arms afterwards beneath the duvet. Her head was lying on his chest, over his heart. He shivered when Molly kissed the wound where he had been shot. Though he had been frightful of it, the scars on his back from when he took down Moriarty's network did not deter her from being close to him like this. Though, he knew it was silly for him to fear such a thing. Molly loved him unconditionally, scars and all.

"I can hear you thinking," she teased.

"That's my line," he chuckled, his thumb rubbing circles against her skin.

"Are you alright?" she asked, clearly concerned that maybe he wasn't as ready as he said he was.

"Molly, I'm fine," he assured her. "I promise you, I am." This seemed to convince her and she settled back into his arms, nuzzling her nose against his neck. A small humming sound came from him and she realized he was actually singing the words from an Ed Sheeran song.

 ** _'When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath. But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight.'_**

It wasn't long before Molly drifted off to sleep with a warm, fuzzy feeling in her heart. Sherlock followed soon after, keeping her in his arms the whole night.


	7. Compromised

"If you collapse on top of me, I will probably break," Molly told him.

"Well, this would have been over a while ago if you weren't so flexible," he smirked cheekily at her.

"I'd kick your arse for that, but I don't wanna lose," she replied.

Just then, Mycroft, John and Mary with Rosie all let themselves into 221B to find Sherlock and Molly in a compromising position. A shout of exasperation sounded from Mycroft.

"Bloody hell," John muttered.

"Will you two stop being babies, they're just playing Twister," Mary laughed.

"Mary, could you spin the arrow for us?" Molly asked.

"Sure thing," she replied. "Left leg, yellow." This caused Molly to be hovering over Sherlock instead. Mary spun it again and called out, "Right arm, red, Sherlock." As soon as he reached for it, he fell onto the mat.

"Yes!" Molly exclaimed. "We're going and that's final."

"You didn't," Mycroft spoke, sounding appalled. "Sherlock, please tell me you didn't."

"I did," he confirmed, helping Molly up.

"I told you to leave me out of it," he hissed.

"I tried, really, but Molly insisted on you being part of the deal or I'd have to go anyways," Sherlock explained.

"Can someone please tell me what's going on here?" John asked.

"I told Sherlock that if I won a game of Twister, we were going to his parents' for Christmas," Molly explained. "Including Mycroft."

"But—" Mycroft began, but quickly shut his mouth when Molly shot him a glare. "I suppose they'll want to see Anthea now that we are involved."

"Exactly," Molly smiled. "There's biscuits in the kitchen if you want one." It was no secret that Mycroft enjoyed her baked goods.

"You baked those for me," Sherlock pouted.

"Honestly, can't you spare one for your brother?" Molly asked.

"He'll eat them all," he complained.

"Why have a baby when you're still raising two grown men?" Mary pointed out. The two women laughed together, Rosie joining in, though she had no idea what was so funny.

"Et tu, Rosamund?" Sherlock sighed.

* * *

The next day, Molly and Mary were sitting at an outdoor table at Speedy's for brunch whilst Sherlock and John were apprehending a criminal. Rosie chose to sit in Aunt Molly's lap today, sipping juice from her sippy cup.

"So, I see you and Sherlock made a seamless transition into romance," Mary smiled.

"We definitely did," Molly confirmed. "Who knew all it would take was a little too much wine." They laughed at this, recalling the weekend they were caught red-handed. "Though the honeymoon phase is sure to end soon."

"Can't be sunshine all the time," Mary agreed.

The confirmed end of the honeymoon period happened soon after. It wasn't anything specific. They hadn't argued or exchanged heated words, but Sherlock seemed to be quite agitated most of the time. Molly wasn't sure if it was her or other things factoring into his foul moods lately.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?" he replied, studying the specimen through the microscope at the lab.

"Are we okay?" she asked with shaky breath, afraid of the answer.

"Of course, why wouldn't we be?" he asked in return.

"You just seem a bit…fed up," she told him. "Perhaps a bit distant too. Is this about going to your parents' for Christmas? Or maybe you don't want to do this anymore?" His head shot up quickly, looking at her with concern.

"Molly, no, don't ever think that," he spoke gently. "I'm sorry I've been so distant. It's not that at all. I've just been so afraid of mucking everything up, and look where that got me. My fear has caused me to mess up."

"What do you mean?" she questioned.

"I'm constantly afraid of hurting you. I'm always thinking too hard on what to say. I don't want to seem insensitive and cruel like I used to be," Sherlock explained. "I'm actually quite exhausted from thinking so much."

"You're not going to hurt me, Sherlock," she assured him. "We'll have rows every now and then, but it's not the end of the world. We had rows even when we were just friends. I know it can be scary—I mean, we're building a life together—but you can't allow your fears to stop you from pursuing what you want. You're not alone in this relationship, my love."

"What would I do without you?" he gave her a small smile. She pressed her lips to his chastely.

"How about this? As soon as I finish this last bit of paperwork, we will go back to Baker Street and I'll help you quiet your thoughts," she winked. Sherlock smirked, knowing exactly what she had in mind.

"Not Baker Street; Mrs. Hudson ran out of herbal soothers," he chuckled. "And I rather enjoy the sounds you make." Molly rolled her eyes at him playfully, knowing for a fact it was going to be a good night.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sorry if this chapter was a bit boring. I've had a lot going on recently and I've just been trying to get these up lol.


	8. God, I Love You

_**'You've got all of me.**_

 _ **I belong to you.  
Yeah, you're my everything.'**_

 **\- In Case You Didn't Know by Brett Young**

* * *

After a couple of weeks, Sherlock took notice of the changes in his flat. It looked more lived-in than usual. Of course there was his usual mess, but now a lot of Molly's belongings were there as well. This would have alarmed his old self greatly, but he took comfort in the fact that she was subconsciously moving in with him, little by little.

Her favourite knit afghan lay across the back of the sofa and her Alice in Wonderland mug resided on the coffee table. Upon the desk, there was a clear separation of his paperwork and textbooks and her paperwork along with her laptop. Sherlock ventured into his bedroom, though now it could be called their bedroom. There was a photo of the two of them on his bedside table; a candid that Mary took of them. They had just been talking quietly together, him sitting in his chair and her in his lap. The conversation had only been about a case, but it was the way they looked at each other in that moment that caused Mary to snap the photo.

Her dirty clothes resided with his and his wardrobe contained some of her dresses and skirts. The once empty drawer in his dresser was now filled with jumpers, pants and lingerie. He blinked rapidly, attempting to get a grip on himself. How had he not noticed her lacy knickers being kept here?

The shower contained not only his products, but hers as well, including the strawberry shampoo he knew the scent of so well. On the sink's counter, her spare toothbrush was beside his and there was the bottle of lotion she always used after her showers. It smelled like honeysuckle and it was his favourite scent on her, as it heightened her natural scent as well. Molly's purple dressing gown was hanging beside his blue one on the back of the door. Just then his phone rang, her name lighting up on the screen.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Why do you always think it's an emergency when I call?" Molly laughed. "I just wanted to let you know I have to work overtime tonight, so I won't be home until late." His heart pounded in his chest at the sound of her calling Baker Street home.

"Would you like me to keep you company?" he offered. "I can bring takeaway for dinner so you won't have to eat in the canteen."

"I'd like that," she smiled, already excited to see him. "If you're going to Angelo's just get me the usual, please."

"I'll be there soon," he told her.

* * *

"Goodness, that fettucine alfredo smells heavenly," Molly remarked as Sherlock entered her office. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, honeybee," he replied, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. She was wearing her glasses—a rare sight for him—but he adored how she looked in them. "Forget your contacts?" he asked as he sat down.

"Hm? Oh yeah, left them at my flat, so I didn't have them at yours this morning," she explained.

"Darling, maybe you should pick a place to live," he suggested. "Half of your belongings are practically at Baker Street."

"Sherlock Holmes, are you asking me to move in with you?" she smiled.

"Yes, but to be fair, you've already taken it upon yourself to start the moving process," he chuckled. Molly playfully smacked his shoulder in response. His jaw dropped in mock-seriousness, as if he couldn't believe she'd done that. He quickly snapped it shut when he felt her lips press against his neck from behind. She wasn't going to get away with it that easily, so as Molly walked around him to go sit behind her desk, he gave a light pat at her bum.

"Cheeky bugger," she giggled. Then they were both laughing at her unintentional pun.

* * *

By the time they had entered 221B, they were both pretty exhausted. Sherlock had been sleeping more often than he usually did—whether that was because he wanted to take better care of himself now or his sleepless nights were catching up to him, he didn't know. Perhaps, it was both.

For whatever reason, neither of them could actually sleep. Molly suddenly burst into giggles whilst thinking about the terrible joke Sherlock made earlier. She had allowed him to peruse the spare body parts for his next experiment. At the time, she was confessing how nervous she was about her upcoming presentation. Leave it to Sherlock to erase her worries by revealing the spine he had held in his hand and telling her, "I've got your back."

"What is so funny?" Sherlock asked, amused by her giggling.

"I've got your back," she laughed so hard, she snorted. Soon, they were both losing it, their overtired state making them a bit loopy. It took a while for their laughter to subside, but when it did, Sherlock pulled her close to him so that she was tucked against his side.

"God, I love you," he spoke softly before pressing his lips to hers so tenderly, Molly felt as if she could cry. Wait—a tear slipped down her cheek. Sherlock must have noticed because he kissed it away, tasting the salt on his lips. "Sleep now, my darling." It wasn't long before they drifted off peacefully.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I really love writing small, silly, sweet moments between them. My goal with this chapter was to show how deeply, beautifully intimate they were without any sexual intimacy.


	9. Surprising Secrets

**_'Is this a dream?_** ** _If it is, p_** ** _lease don't wake me from this high._**

 ** _I've become comfortably numb, until you opened up my eyes_**

 ** _to what it's like when everything's right.'_**

 **\- You Found Me by Kelly Clarkson**

* * *

Molly woke the next Saturday clutching her stomach and groaning in pain. Sherlock was immediately alerted and smoothed her hair back from her forehead, noting she had a fever.

"Can you move?" he asked with worry. She shook her head, the sharp pain from her cramps making her eyes well up with tears. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"Midol," she replied.

"Okay, I can get that for you. Would a heating pad help too?" he asked her.

"Yes, thank you, Sherlock," she told him. When the pain subsided, Molly was able to get up and get a few things done before he got back from the shops. She was curled up on the sofa, covered with her afghan, watching crap telly when he came back. "What is all this?" She was giggling up a storm now.

"Well, I wasn't sure what specifically you needed and it just sort of happened," he explained. "I may have texted Mary about it. She said to make sure you had chocolate and comfort foods. I wasn't sure so I just got different kinds of soup and herbal teas." He set the bags down on the coffee table and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He fluffed the pillow behind her and warmed up the heating pad.

"You didn't have to go through all this trouble," she replied, taking the bottle of Midol that Sherlock handed to her. Without warning, she was crying, completely overwhelmed by it all.

"Did I do something a bit not good? Molly, I'm sorry," he panicked.

"No you silly man," she laughed through the tears. "You did very good. No one's ever done anything like this for me." It was that moment when Sherlock mentally cursed the men of Molly's past for not taking better care of her.

"Well, then they're imbeciles, the lot of them," he smirked.

* * *

Sherlock held her in his arms whilst they watched Doctor Who. Molly had been attempting for weeks to at least get him to watch from the ninth doctor on and had been surprised when he suggested they watch it together. He had to admit, though, that as illogically fanciful as the series was, he enjoyed it quite a bit.

Molly snuggled into him more, if that was even possible. Her cramps were gone and the feeling of his fingers running through her hair was heavenly. She loved this impossibly brilliant, and sometimes clueless, man who would walk to the ends of the earth for her. Sherlock seemingly melted into her when she pressed her lips to the side of his neck.

"Thank you, Sherlock," she whispered to him. The smile he gave her made her heart beat faster.

"You are most welcome, Molly," he spoke softly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She eventually fell asleep sometime after eating the soup he made for her and it was getting quite late. He gently scooped her up in his arms and brought her to their bedroom and tucked her in before sliding in beside her. As if she sensed him, Molly immediately curled herself around his side, one leg thrown over his. Sherlock decided that he needed to have a word with Mycroft and soon. Christmas was next month after all.

* * *

"Oi, where do you think you're going?" Mary asked her husband, attempting to sneak away with Sherlock. They were all over at the Watsons' residence having tea.

"Lestrade has a case for us," Sherlock piped up.

"He needs us—both of us—immediately," John added. Molly and Mary nodded as if they bought their story, when, in fact, they both knew that Greg wasn't even working today because, thanks to Molly, he and Meena were on a lunch date. They watched as the two of them bolted out the door quite comically.

"Suspicious?" Mary asked.

"Very," Molly replied. Rosie was babbling as she coloured in her colouring book. "Follow them?"

"Definitely," Mary agreed.

They took the car with Rosie settled safely in her car seat. They kept a good amount of distance, watching as they both went inside the Diogenes Club.

"He never goes to see Mycroft of his own free will," Molly pointed out.

"Damn and we don't have any way to disguise ourselves as men," Mary remarked. "All I have is this fake mustache."

"Why do you have a fake mustache?" Molly asked with amusement.

"Well, I don't know when it could be handy," Mary told her, sticking it on her face. "I should be asking you why you're wearing Sherlock's deerstalker."

"Because it's fun," Molly replied, sticking her tongue out. In the midst of their bantering, they didn't even notice they had been spotted. After a light knock on the car driver's side window, they both screamed and Rosie giggled.

"Unca Sherwock!" Rosie shouted. Mary lowered the window begrudgingly.

"You're losing your touch, Mary," Sherlock smirked. "And Molly, I presume this was your idea?"

"What makes you say that? Mary's the former assassin," Molly argued.

"Because, oddly enough, between the two of you, you're more of a troublemaker," he replied. "Though, I must say, you look lovely in that deerstalker."

"Sherlock, you just left me in there with your brother. Why the hell—Mary?" John panted after running over to them. "Is this some joke on the mustache I had?"

"It looks better on me," Mary smiled smugly.

"Why did you lie about Greg having a case for you? He's on a date with Meena," Molly challenged. "Why would you lie to me at all?" The conversation took a turn as Sherlock realized that she felt hurt. "Not that you can't see your brother, of course, but why do you feel you have to lie about it?"

"I'm sorry, Molly, I wasn't doing it to hurt you," Sherlock's voice softened. "It was for a good reason, I promise. Please, you have to believe me. I would never do anything to hurt you."

"I trust you," she told him. "You'll tell me when you're ready." John let out a heavy breath, relieved that there wasn't going to be a huge blowup. If anyone knew how to navigate relationships, it was Sherlock and Molly, surprisingly.

* * *

After the Watsons were alone, Mary had to know.

"Why the lie, then?" she asked. John furrowed his brows. "Come on, out with it."

"As long as you don't tell Molly," John told her. "Sherlock's trying to surprise her." Mary nodded in understanding. "He needed to talk with Mycroft to make sure he wasn't going to use their grandmother's ring for Anthea. He isn't, since he opted to buy her one instead."

"Sherlock's going to propose?" Mary gasped.

"Yes, for Christmas," John confirmed. "I only went with him to act as a buffer in case there was an outburst." Mary was excited for their friends, but then quickly realized an important factor.

"You owe me ten quid," she smirked. "I said he'd propose before the end of the year."

"Damn it," John frowned, much to her amusement.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Lots of shenanigans and fluff! Gonna do a bit of a time jump and get into Christmas next chapter!


	10. A Christmas to Remember

_**'Build a fire to escape the cold;  
Bing Crosby on the stereo.  
Tracing letters on my skin,  
Slowly starts sinkin' in,  
You love me.'**_

 **\- Winter Dream - Kelly Clarkson**

* * *

"Molly, my dear, it's so good to see you!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed, hugging her. "However did you get both of my boys to visit?"

"Cleverness," Sherlock answered. "She's cleverer than either of us."

"I could've told you that, William," Mrs. Holmes teased. "Mikey! So happy you brought Anthea with you!"

"As you requested," he sighed. All the women shot him a look that could kill. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You two are in for it now," Mr. Holmes chuckled.

"Nope, only Mycroft," Sherlock replied. "I'm actually happy to be here." Everyone stared at him, shocked at his words. "Truly, I am."

"What's gotten into you?" his mother asked. "Not that I'm not happy you feel this way, but what changed?"

"After everything this year threw at us; Mary nearly sacrificing herself for me, Sherrinford, my recovered memories and, of course, allowing myself to completely fall in love with Molly, I've realized that love, sentiment and family are the most important things in my life," Sherlock explained.

Molly fought hard to keep from sobbing right there in his parents' sitting room, throwing a hand over her mouth. As she looked around, she realized everyone seemed to be a bit of an emotional mess, including Mycroft. Sherlock looked to Molly, noting all of their reactions.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she laughed through her building tears. Regardless of her son's reactions from before, Mrs. Holmes still opted to throw her arms around him, surprised that he returned her hug with sincerity.

"If you could all just cheer up a bit," he remarked, remembering how it seemed to work at John and Mary's wedding. And it worked again. Everyone was laughing and began to move on from the sweet moment.

* * *

As Bing Crosby sounded from the record player, everyone pitched in to decorate the tree. All except for Mycroft, who seemed to be out of his comfort zone. He wasn't even in the room with them.

"Where's Mycroft?" Molly asked.

"I think he went outside for a bit," Anthea replied.

"He better not be smoking," Mrs. Holmes added. At that, Sherlock and Molly both gave each other a knowing look.

"I'll be right back," Molly whispered to Sherlock before giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. When she ventured outside, Mycroft jumped and hid his cigarette as best he could. "Don't worry, it's just me."

"Oh, Miss Hooper," he sighed with relief. "Forgive my absence. It's all a bit overwhelming."

"That's understandable. You're not used to your family being so close again," she replied.

"It's been a long time since we've been this way," Mycroft told her. "The last time there was true happiness in our household was before Eurus began showing symptoms of psychosis."

"Do you think there's a chance that she could ever get better?" Molly asked.

"After all these years of attempting to get her treated properly, only for it to become worse…I don't think she ever will," he answered. "And sometimes, I find myself feeling guilty—not just because I lied to our parents and Sherlock—but because I often think of you as the sister I never had." Being surprised by a Holmes brother for the second time tonight, Molly was speechless. She had no idea that Mycroft was so fond of her.

"You can have more than one sister, you know," she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. It must have worked a bit, because a ghost of smile settled over him. "May I just add that maybe you're feeling guilty for thinking that because you know the psychosis isn't her fault. She can't control it and it's hard for a family to go through, but there's nothing wrong with wishing her to be more well off than she is."

"You have the wisdom of a thousand lives, Miss Hooper," Mycroft told her, putting out his cigarette. "And may I just say that I secretly hoped all these years that my brother would allow you into his heart. You're good for him and I can see, despite most people's thoughts, that he's good for you too."

"Thank you for saying that," Molly smiled. "So, why don't you have one of my biscuits and help us finish this tree, yeah?"

"I'd be delighted," he replied, showing her a true smile.

* * *

After the tree was decorated, and Sherlock and Molly successfully sprinkled tinsel in each other's hair in a fit of laughter, Mycroft actually seemed to be relaxed for once. When Frank Sinatra's voice began singing, Sherlock pulled Molly in his arms for a dance. Mycroft saw Molly nod toward Anthea in encouragement. He got the cue and asked her to dance, to which she happily obliged.

"You must have magic," Sherlock told her.

"Magic is illogical," Molly mimicked him as best she could. Sherlock cut her off with a tender kiss.

"I'm starting to realize that I don't quite know everything," he smiled. "You, Molly Hooper, are magical."

It wasn't long before it was midnight, making it officially Christmas. They were all enjoying their holiday drinks, talking about everything and nothing. Molly felt like she had a family again and it was looking to be the best Christmas she's had since before her parents passed.

"Darling, why don't you get the, um, gift,"Mr. Holmes suggested to his wife in a whisper. She did just that and came back, slipping the little velvet box to Sherlock whilst Molly was conversing with Anthea.

"This was a tradition of ours when the boys were growing up, and we haven't done it since, but I think we should jumpstart it again," Mrs. Holmes announced. "At midnight, one person was able to open one of their gifts. This year, we think it best for it to be Molly."

"What?" she asked, glancing at Sherlock. "I think you're mistaken, he and I agreed no gifts this year."

"Well, actually…" he began. "We agreed to not buy gifts. You never said I couldn't give you one." Molly opened her mouth and closed it again in surprise. "And really, this is more of a gift for the both of us, should you choose to accept it." Her eyes began welling up with tears when Sherlock knelt down on both knees in front of her. "Molly Hooper, I don't know what I've done to deserve the love of such an amazing woman, but I would want nothing more than to be your husband. You have saved me with your constant love and warmth and stood by me in the most trying of times. I only wish to lavish you with love for the rest of my life. Will you marry me, darling?"

"Yes," she choked out, going down on both of her knees with him. Her arms were thrown around his neck as she snogged him without a care in the world. Mrs. Holmes dabbed at her eyes with Mycroft's handkerchief.

"Haven't even gotten the box open," Sherlock chuckled. Molly laughed with him. He opened it to reveal a beautiful vintage opal engagement ring with floral leaf accents embedded with tiny sparkling diamonds set in a white gold band. The opal was very reminiscent of Sherlock's cerulean eyes.

"It's beautiful," was all she managed to say when Sherlock slipped it on her finger and kissed it. He had gotten it resized for her smaller finger.

"It was my grandmother's," he told her.

"I love it, and I love you," she cried. And then he gave her that beautiful smile she loved so much, when it hit her. Sherlock Holmes wanted her to be his wife. She was going to marry the love of her life. Of course she knew he loved her, but she didn't ever think he would go this far. "It's more than enough that because of you I have a family again, and now this, I just—"

"William, I think Molly's a bit overwhelmed," Mrs. Holmes told him. "Maybe you two should take a walk." He nodded in agreement, taking Molly's hand in his. They bundled up before heading outside. The snow crunched beneath their feet and the crisp, cold air helped calm her down. Their gloved hands were laced together and Sherlock gave hers an affectionate squeeze.

"So, that's why you went to see Mycroft," she realized.

"I told you it was for a good reason," he teased.

"I love you," she smiled, her eyes lit up.

"I know," he whispered. "I love you too."

"Are you going to visit Eurus?" Molly asked.

"I was going to wait until after the holiday," he explained. "Why?"

"Well, I kinda got her something," she told him. "And I know you don't want us in the same room together because you're afraid of what might happen, but Sherlock, I want to see her. She is going to be my sister, after all."

"Okay," he replied, no arguments.

"What?" she asked, surprised that he had agreed.

"I said okay." They stopped walking and he was holding both of her hands in his. "I can't keep you from her forever. And, honestly, the doctors have said that having her family around more often would help rather than hinder her condition. Besides, you would have probably found your own way there with sweet confections as bribes for Mycroft."

"Shut up, you," she laughed. "You're probably right."

"Mm, I'm always right," he smirked, kissing the tip of her nose that was now a bit too cold.

"I'm always right," she mimicked, teasing him.

"And they said I acted like a child," he chuckled, continuing to walk back toward the house. Molly stopped abruptly and scooped up some snow in her hands, forming it into a tightly packed ball and threw it at the back of his head. The look on his face elicited a giggle snort combination from her. "Molly, Molly, Molly, what am I going to do with you?"

"Marry me," she told him, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Sherlock scooped up some snow and packed it as he chased her through the yard. He had to admit, for a petite woman, she could run quite fast.

"Edmund, come look at this," Mrs. Holmes told her husband. He stood beside her, looking out the window at the sight of Sherlock and Molly throwing snowballs at each other. At one point she had slid on a hidden patch of ice, but he caught her just in time.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked her, his voice so gentle and warm, she could melt.

"I am," she replied, smiling. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and helped her up, calling it a draw.

"Let's get you warmed up," he suggested. His parents scrambled and settled themselves in the kitchen as if nothing had happened. They should know better though. "Don't think I didn't see you two spying on us."

"Nothing gets past you, son," Mr. Holmes chuckled.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Yes, there will be a Eurus visit next chapter! I know some people don't like her one bit, but I honestly feel sorry for her despite all the bad she's done, only because psychosis is not something that can be cured. It was obvious she was born with it and it kinda breaks my heart.


	11. New Year's Eve

**Author's Note:** I'm not entirely sure if I like this chapter, but I hope somebody does lol

* * *

A chill crawled up Molly's spine as she followed Sherlock through the halls of Sherrinford. It was a dismal place that would cause anyone of perfect sanity to go crazy. She thought of how lonely Eurus must have felt when their Uncle Rudy placed her here as a little girl. Having been told that the youngest Holmes did not exhibit emotions, Molly still wondered if she had cried herself to sleep on some nights.

"Let me go in first and prepare her for your visit," Sherlock instructed her. He noted a look of uncertainty on her face. "Are you still positive you want to do this?" Molly nodded, giving him a small smile. He pressed his lips to her forehead and stepped inside. She waited patiently, listening intently to the melodic sound of the Holmes's violins. It wasn't long before Sherlock came back for her, guiding her inside, finally coming face to face with Eurus Holmes.

"Oh, she's lovely," Molly remarked quietly. "The two of you look so alike." One corner of his lips tugged into a half smile at his fiancée's comment. "Does she mind if I speak to her?"

"No, it's alright. She doesn't talk at all anymore, but she'll listen to you," Sherlock replied.

"Hello Eurus," Molly smiled, attempting a cheerful approach. "I'm Molly. I brought you a gift." For once, Eurus's stare wasn't vacant, but her eyes hinted at curiosity. He took the small box from her hands and placed it in the airlock for her. Eurus hesitantly lifted the box out and opened it. They watched as she lifted the necklace out by its chain, inspecting it every which way. It was a silver outline of a heart with the words 'big sis' engraved on it.

"Sister?" Eurus asked, leaving them to be shocked at her voice sounding out for the first time in months.

"Sister," Molly confirmed, lifting up her own matching necklace. Hers was a smaller heart that had 'little sis' engraved on it. The size of hers was meant to fit right in the empty space of Eurus's. She pointed at Molly's left hand, the ring glittering where the lights hit it. If they blinked, they would've missed it, but a ghost of smile appeared on her face for just a split second.

"Sisters," Sherlock smiled at them both.

* * *

When New Year's Eve arrived, Molly had 221B decorated in shades of black, silver and gold. She hadn't planned on hosting a party, but Sherlock knew she wanted to and told her he would be fine with it, her argument being that it would make him feel uncomfortable. After his obvious enjoyment of Christmas, she supposed he was more comfortable with this than she assumed.

John, Mary, Rosie, Mrs. Hudson, Meena and Greg were all in attendance. Molly wanted to take the opportunity to introduce the latter two to each other in hopes something good would come out of it for both of them. She looked around for Sherlock, wondering where he had gone off to now. Their bedroom door was cracked open and she approached it, hearing him talk on the phone.

"Mycroft, where are you?" Sherlock asked. "Molly really wanted you to be here tonight. Do not break her heart." With that, he hung up and tossed his phone onto the bed.

"Sherlock?" Molly called to him, entering their room. "Everything okay?"

"I'm sorry, darling, but it seems that my brother may not show up," he told her, running a hand through his hair.

"It's alright; he doesn't have to come," she assured him. "It's probably too overwhelming for him." Sherlock pressed his lips to hers tenderly. He knew that Molly wanted him to have the same sense of family that she had before her parents passed away, but there was nothing he could do to make Mycroft cooperate. After all, his brother was her family too and he felt that she still held a deep sadness over the fact she didn't have hers anymore.

"You'll always have me," he whispered without realizing he had spoken out loud. She only held onto him tighter before letting go and stepping back out into the sitting room with him. They mingled with their friends and were dancing when the door to 221B opened.

"I hope we aren't late," Mycroft announced, Anthea by his side. "I heard there'd be biscuits." This received a laugh from them all. Sherlock watched as Molly instantly went into hostess mode.

"There's chocolate chip, snickerdoodles and ginger nuts," she told him, leading him into the kitchen happily. Mycroft had to admit, the party wasn't as bad as he expected it to be. He did know everyone there and even the teasing from Sherlock was down to a minimum. In fact, they were actually getting along. Molly had a knack for bringing people together in unimaginable ways.

 _Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!_ Sherlock snogged her thoroughly not caring at all that they were in the presence of others who were doing the same with their loved ones. Everyone took turns, peppering Rosie's face with kisses, making her giggle. It was definitely the best New Year's Molly ever had.


	12. We Can Beat This

When Sherlock came home on a frigid January evening, he saw there was already a warm fire crackling away. The scent of freshly baked ginger nuts filled the flat and on his desk was a gift wrapped in pretty midnight blue paper, a silver bow adorning it. He approached the desk, reading the tag that was reminiscent of a Christmas from years ago.

 _Dearest Sherlock_

 _Love, Molly xxx_

"Happy Birthday," Molly smiled, approaching him from behind. He turned to face her and pressed his lips to hers.

"Thank you, darling," he replied. "As sure as I am that I'll love your gift, I can think of something else covered in blue that I'd like to unwrap." He winked at her, reveling in the fact she was wearing his blue dressing gown.

"There'll be time for that later, I promise," she told him. He turned over the gift in his hand and unwrapped it, revealing a book filled with unsolved mysteries from all over the world. "I know it isn't much, but—"

"Molly, this is perfect, thank you," he assured her.

"You're very welcome! I made kind of a big dinner," she admitted, "but I also made your favourite biscuits. I may have gone a bit overboard."

"I appreciate it all, my darling," he told her. "You didn't have to go through so much trouble though."

"It wasn't any trouble at all," she replied. "I just—"

"—tend to cook and bake too much when you're upset?" he finished. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow. I wouldn't want to ruin your birthday," she said quickly. Sherlock knew not to press on for more information. He was worried about what had her so upset, but he knew the best thing right now was to enjoy a night in together to keep her mind off of it.

* * *

The next day, Molly came home in tears. She hadn't expected him to be home but she was thankful that he was when she felt his arms wrap around her. He hated seeing her cry and wanted nothing more than to fix whatever it was that had been upsetting her. Sherlock took her bag and coat, setting them aside, and lifted her in his arms, settling her in his lap on the sofa. She clung to him, her tears subsiding.

"Tell me what's wrong, Molly, please?" he asked softly, wiping her tears with his thumb.

"Th—there's only a s—slight chance that I'll be able t—to have children," she cried.

"It's going to be alright," he assured her. "You still have slight chance; that's better than none."

"I know," she replied. "But I also know how excited you were to start a family together after we get married and what if I really can't?"

"Then, we'll still be okay," he told her.

"I'm broken," she sobbed, burying her face into his neck.

"You are not broken," he spoke softly. "You are Molly Hooper, a beautiful, strong woman who always seems to defy the odds. We'll get through this. There's still a chance and we're going to have that one in a million."

"Do you really think so?" she sniffled.

"Yes," he replied. "In fact, I know we will. Is this what you were upset about last night?"

"It was, but the actual results came back today," she explained.

"Why don't we just focus on planning the wedding for now, okay?" he suggested, his eyes so gentle.

"Okay," she half-laughed.

"There's my girl," he smiled. "We're going to be just fine."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay, y'all! I was trying to get all 12 of my Christmas fics done lol! Kinda sad, but y'all know how I roll on happy endings lol!


	13. All Night Diner

**Author's Note:** guess who's back...back again? Shelby's back with fictional friends xD thanks to my friend, glitterkitty4ever, on Tumblr for allowing me to use her name for my OC in this chapter.

* * *

"No," Sherlock mumbled into his pillow. Molly jolted awake at the feel of him tugging her closer. "Molly, please!" He was shouting in a panic now.

"Sherlock," Molly spoke with urgency. "Wake up, it's all a nightmare."

"Please don't leave me," he said in a strangled sob.

"I'm not leaving you," she told him softly. "Darling, wake up." Molly smoothed back his curls, damp from the perspiration that accumulated on his forehead. She pressed her lips to his hairline, running her fingers gently down his back. He was calmer now, at least. It gave her enough time to try and wake him. Just a few nudges and his eyes opened, blinking back tears.

"Molly," he spoke her name like a prayer.

"I'm here," she smiled, cupping his face with her hand. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?" he asked, slipping out of bed and only putting his Belstaff over his pajamas as Molly slipped her warmest jumper over her tank top.

"It's a secret," she whispered playfully. After their shoes were on, they ventured out into the chilly night. It was two in the morning, and luckily, Molly was able to hail a black cab for them. The pair of them entered the backseat whilst Molly told the driver the address of their destination.

Sherlock was quiet during the ride, allowing Molly to calm him with little affectionate gestures. She held his hand, rubbing circles on the back of it with her thumb. Every now and then, she'd kiss his fingers or wrist, sending tingles through him. They arrived at a small building squeezed between two larger ones. If you blinked, you might miss it. A neon twenty-four hour sign flashing in the window.

"What is this place?" he asked her as they approached the door.

"It's a little all night diner I used to come to in my uni years frequently," Molly told him. "Remember when I asked if you'd like coffee? I meant it as a date here."

"So we get a bit of redo?" he questioned with a small smile on his face.

"Sort of," she giggled, leading him inside.

"Molly Hooper, as I live and breathe," the woman behind the counter smiled, laugh lines creasing her face. "And you brought Sherlock Holmes with you? What brings you around?"

"Hey Lorianna," Molly greeted her. "Just here for a couple of milkshakes"— she looked up at Sherlock—"well, if you don't want a milkshake, that's fine."

"Uh, no, I could go for one," he replied. Molly ordered her banana cream shake and Sherlock's mint chocolate chip shake.

"Lorianna was the closest to a mother figure I had after my parents both passed. She helped me through uni and my early years at Bart's," Molly explained to him.

"I remember you coming in here just to talk to me about him," Lorianna laughed. "And now I hear you two are engaged! How things change in a span of a few years." Sherlock noticed the faint flush that crossed his fiancée's face and pressed a reassuring kiss to her temple.

They sat in a booth with their freshly made milkshakes, noticing for the first time that they were the only customers in the diner.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Molly asked him, her free hand reaching out to hold his.

"It's the fifteenth," was all he said. It didn't take her long to realize it had been a year since the Sherrinford incident. She squeezed his hand affectionately, silently telling him she understood. "It was different in the dream. You were trapped inside the coffin instead. I couldn't solve my sister's riddle to free you in time. When the time ran out, I did realize the answer and thought there was still a chance." After a shaky intake of breath, he continued. "You were dead when I got to you. I kept asking you to come back, to not leave me. But you were gone. I lost you. And I failed you."

"It's okay, Sherlock. I'm right here," she spoke softly. "I'm sorry that you had such a terrible dream." Her heart ached for him. "This is going to sound like I'm analyzing things—and maybe I am—but maybe the fact that you failed in the dream is because you're afraid of failing me in some other way."

"You're not wrong," he confirmed. "You know me too well."

"What is it that you're scared of?" she asked quietly.

"Being a rubbish husband," he admitted. "I know it's not too much different from where we're at now in our relationship, but there are so many marriages that fail for various reasons."

"You really think our marriage would fail? We've been to hell and back together, Sherlock," Molly pointed out. "If I haven't left your side yet, do you really think I ever would?"

"No," he answered. "You wouldn't."

"You're stuck with me, Mister Holmes," she teased, her tongue poking out between her teeth.

"There's no one else I'd rather be stuck with," he chuckled. Small moments like these made them both feel safe with one another. The more they learned about each other, the more they continued to fall in love.


	14. At First Sight

**Dear Guest Reviewer, a** **s this story has been planned out for them to have their own baby eventually, I wouldn't mind having them adopt in another fic!**

* * *

When Friday rolled around, Molly was thankful that Sherlock had an experiment to do at the lab that morning. There weren't any autopsies scheduled today and she was finally caught up on her paperwork. Whilst they waited for the results of said experiment, they spent the time discussing wedding plans. They had planned for an April wedding, so that only left three months. It was going to be a small wedding in the spacious garden behind Mr. and Mrs. Holmes's house in Sussex. Just close friends and Sherlock's family. Molly still couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that his family was now hers too, as she had lived almost twenty years without her parents. And since she was an only child, there were no siblings either.

Her mind wandered to the first time they had met, just six months before John Watson came into their lives. Sherlock hadn't been cruel to her, but he was quite a cold person in general at the time. When Mike had lead him down to the morgue, she had caught a portion of their conversation.

 _"I assure you, Doctor Hooper is the finest pathologist we have," Mike told him. "I believe she will meet your standards, Mister Holmes. Just don't go falling in love now." It was just a joke, but Sherlock had taken it quite literally._

 _"I'm married to my work, Stamford, I have no intention to," Sherlock replied curtly. "Nor would I ever be capable of it._ _I'm a high-functioning sociopath."_ _Sociopath, my arse, Molly thought._

 _"Well," Mike sighed, "you never really know." With a knowing smirk, Mike introduced them. "Molly, this is Sherlock Holmes. He's a private—"_

 _"Consulting detective," Sherlock interrupted, slipping off a glove to shake her hand. He blinked in confusion as to why he found the feeling of her hand in his satisfactory._

 _"S—So, you consult with the police then?" Molly asked. God, he was gorgeous. Like Winston Churchill once said, he was 'a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Those unruly ebony curls, high cheekbones and piercing cerulean eyes made her mouth go dry. But he was married to his work and she had to get rid of any notions before it got to be too much. It was the strangest feeling, but she felt that she could love a man like him. It was like his magnetic field was pulling her in the moment they touched._

 _"I—yes," he said in surprise. Sherlock usually had to explain the term consulting detective to others. This woman was a brilliant sort, of that he was sure. He noticed her dilated eyes, not unaware that he was a rather attractive man, nor was he humble about his many attributes. The body was merely transport, after all. But if that was true, then why couldn't he keep his eyes off of her soft pink lips—at least they looked soft—and her beautiful brown eyes. "So, Doctor Hooper—"_

 _"Uh, y—you can call me Molly," she told him. What was wrong with her!? She sounded like a stuttering fool. Molly was sure he'd make some sort of snide remark about it, but he ignored the faltering of her voice._

 _"Molly," Sherlock repeated, trying it out. It was a lovely name._

"Molly? Molly!" Sherlock called out.

"Huh!?" she exclaimed, jumping off her stool.

"I'm pretty sure the entire hospital could hear you thinking so loudly," he chuckled. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I was just remembering when we first met," she smiled.

"Mm, that's a good memory," he smirked.

"It was?" she asked. "I mean, for you?"

"At the time, I was a stubborn git, but I couldn't stop watching your eyes…" he kissed both of her eyelids. "…and your lips." It was a gentle kiss that made her heart flutter.

"So, it was just as immediate for you as it was for me?" she questioned in surprise. A sigh escaped her as his lips moved to the spot below her ear.

"Yes," was all he said in a whisper. When his hands and lips were no longer all over her, she was able to clear her head.

"When you told Mike you were married to your work, well, I had always wondered if there was a deeper reason you took love off the table for yourself," Molly confessed.

"I had come to terms long before that day that I'd never find anyone who understood me. I learned to be content with being alone. I didn't think anyone in their right mind could ever love me," he admitted. "But I was fine with it, for the most part. I saw the negative effects of sentiment. Aside from my subconscious playing a part by secretly knowing Victor's disappearance, I saw more heartache than happiness with such relationships."

"I'm sorry that you ever felt that way," she told him.

"The day I met you is when it all changed, you know. You, Molly Hooper, gave me hope. Nobody has ever understood me like you do," he smiled sweetly at her. "We got along, worked well together, and you weren't bothered by my odd habits. Nor were you judgmental about the knowledge that I had overdosed a year before we met. Instead of treating me like a lowly drug addict, you treated me with kindness and cared for me. You never treated me like some inhuman freak, as Donovan would say. So, thank you for giving me the love I didn't think I deserved."

"You don't have to thank me for that," she spoke softly, choked up.

"I suppose not, but I am thankful that you came into my life," Sherlock replied, holding her in his arms. "You were always the one person that mattered most." The experiment was long forgotten, but neither cared that they had to start anew on it. The moment they had was eye-opening for Molly. She felt she had seen the deepest part of his soul after their conversation. He trusted her so much that he revealed the last piece of the puzzle to her and only her.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Okay, so what do y'all think of my theory as to why Sherlock always dismissed advances with being married to his work? It was an epiphany I had earlier haha!


	15. Wine and Cheesy Flirting

"Aunt Mowwy! Unca Wock!" Rosie exclaimed, running toward them.

"Hello, sweetheart!" Molly greeted her, picking the little girl up in her arms to give her a proper hug. "Are you being a good girl for mummy and daddy?"

"The bestest!" Rosie replied. "Is Unca Wock being good?" John and Mary howled with laughter at the look on Sherlock's face. If his jaw dropped any further, it'd be on the floor.

After she got her laughter under control, Molly replied, "He's the bestest too." At that, Sherlock's face softened.

"Rosie's definitely your daughter," Molly told John and Mary. The little Watson reached out for Sherlock and he took her in his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Molly felt herself melt at the sight.

"Dinner will be done soon. Rosie already ate because it's almost her bedtime," Mary told them.

"Aw do I have to?" she asked. "I wanna spend time with Aunt Mowwy and Unca Wock."

"You have a whole hour to spend with them before bed," John replied with a smile. Everyone had been quite surprised how quickly Sherlock took to Rosie when she was born. It was such a sweet bond they had together.

* * *

After Rosie had gone to sleep and dinner was eaten, the four of them were enjoying dessert and a couple glasses of wine. Unlike John and Mary, Sherlock and Molly were lightweights, so by the end of their second glasses, they were already tipsy. In fact, when they had returned to 221B in a cab, they alerted poor Mrs. Hudson with their laughter at each other's terrible pick-up lines.

"Are you a mystery? Cause I wanna unravel you." Molly snorted when she laughed after they had reached the sofa in their flat. She pushed his coat off his shoulders, pressing kisses to his neck.

"Mm," he sounded at her affections. "Are you copper and tellurium? Cause you, Molly Hooper, are CuTe."

"Oh God," she snorted. "That was bloody awful!"

"But you loved it," he pointed out.

"Touché," she replied. "We have such great chemistry, we should do biology together." She struggled with the buttons of his white dress shirt. "Why do you make these buttons work so hard? The tension is much too—" she covered her mouth with her hand when the buttons of his shirt flew off. More giggling ensued. "I'm so sorry."

"I've got lots of shirts," he waved it away. "Come here." Molly did as he said and sat in his lap facing him, her arms around his neck, snogging him like they were a couple of teenagers. " Will you be my Tungsten, Iodine and Iron?" _W-I-Fe._

Molly laughed, "Sherlock, I've already agreed to be your wife, silly man!"

"I know…doesn't hurt to ask twice," he explained. Molly pulled her jumper off, tossing it on the coffee table.

"Wanna go form a covalent bond?" she asked suggestively, letting her lips linger on his from the soft kiss she gave him, leaving him wanting more before leading him to their bedroom.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson would soon thank herself in the morning for deciding to take her herbal soothers when she realized the state of her tenants when they returned. The new occupant of 221C wasn't all too pleased with the noise from the night before. The elderly woman advised the newest tenant to buy noise-cancelling headphones. She wasn't about to tell Sherlock to tone it down; not now, not after years of living without romance.


	16. Valentine's Day

"So," John began whilst Sherlock got coffee for Molly and himself in the canteen.

"Yes?" he asked, wondering what inane question he was about to be asked.

"It's Valentine's Day," John told him.

"And? Your point?" Sherlock huffed in annoyance.

"Don't you have anything planned for you and Molly? I'm taking Mary to see her favourite play," he continued.

"Unlike most of the population, Molly and I don't 'do' Valentine's Day. Yes, let's celebrate the day a man was martyred, or better yet, the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Very romantic," Sherlock said with his usual snark.

"And how do you know that Molly doesn't like to celebrate it?" John just wouldn't let this go. Well, he asked for it.

"We both are firm believers that you should show appreciation and affection for your beloved every day; not just on one day of the year. The holiday itself is there for card and candy sales to go up, nothing more," Sherlock rambled on.

"You know, Sherlock, you may just be better at relationships than you assumed you'd be," John told him. "I mean, you're getting Molly's coffee for her. That's not something you once ever thought of doing."

"Mm, not true," Sherlock remarked. "I've thought about it on multiple occasions before Sherrinford…hell, before the fall. But I didn't want to risk showing any sign of sentiment."

"The way you think gives me a headache," John complained as they reached the lab.

"There you are!" Molly greeted her fiancé. "Look at these findings! I think you may have a breakthrough on your hands."

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, handing Molly her coffee before looking for himself through the microscope. "Thank you for your help, darling."

"My pleasure," she smiled. "I need to finish up some paperwork, but I'll be off the clock in a couple of hours. Still up for our murder mystery marathon tonight?"

"I look forward to it," Sherlock flashed her that lopsided smile she loved so much. John shook his head, realizing he should've known that's how his two friends would spend Valentine's Day.

* * *

Molly was standing in the kitchen using the microwave she kept from her flat to be used only for food. She was already in her grey and pink plaid pajama set, popping her popcorn before they started their night together. Sherlock came up behind her, clad in his tartan pajama pants and nothing else, leaving his chest bare. Molly turned around in his arms, rising up on her toes and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, her fingers tracing the planes of his chest and down his sides. They quietly stood there in the kitchen, snogging like they needed each other more than oxygen. The beep of the microwave interrupted the moment, but before she grabbed the bag of popcorn, Molly took out a decorative tin from the cabinet and handed it to Sherlock. The black ribbon tied around it was black with little white skulls on it.

"Are you poisoning me?" he joked.

"Yes, Happy Valentine's Day," she laughed. Intrigued, Sherlock untied the ribbon and opened the lid to find the tin was full of ginger nuts.

"The only thing sweeter than these biscuits is you, Molly Hooper," he told her. "Thank you."

"You are. Most. Welcome," she said in between playful kisses. In one move, Sherlock scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the sofa, plopping her down just so she'd bounce a little on the cushions. Her laughter was infectious and he couldn't help but laugh with her. He went back for his tin of ginger nuts and joined her, the first movie already set up on the telly. It was one of Molly's favourites and she wondered if Sherlock would ever solve it. _Murder by Death_ was a classic comical murder mystery that she had enjoyed watching with her mother whilst growing up.

They laughed together at the parodies of famous fictional detectives gathered at the dinner party. Surprisingly, Sherlock was having trouble figuring out the culprit. Of course, it wasn't the easiest one to figure out and it was more for comedy than anything else. At one point during the movie, they had become momentarily distracted with each other, unable to keep their hands and lips to themselves. Molly's lips trailing over his skin—from his neck, down his chest—was a most welcome distraction.

"Completely illogical," he scoffed when the so-called culprit was revealed. "This must be where Anderson got his theory from."

"Really? I don't recall seeing any dashing men snogging the breath out of their favourite pathologist," she smirked cheekily.

"Then I must remedy that immediately," he spoke in a sultry tone. She welcomed his affections, tracing her tongue along his lips, making him moan and opening up to her. Molly sat absolutely still when he pressed the most gentle kisses to her forehead, trailing down her temple and cheek before nuzzling his nose against hers. Her hand was lifted by his own and her fingers were brought to his lips, leaving a lovely tingling sensation through her. He kissed her palm and lingered at her wrist, feeling her pulse point. And then his arms were embracing her in a warm hug, his breath shaky.

"Hey, are you alright, love?" she asked.

"I'm better than I've ever been," he answered honestly. What he didn't voice was just how thankful he was that she chose him to give her heart to; that he was the one she wanted for worse or for better. As a deeply emotional man, it could be overwhelming at times, but Molly was also a deeply emotional woman, so he knew she understood. He felt her dainty fingers running up and down his back lightly, calming him.

"I know how you're feeling, Sherlock," she whispered. "Love consumes us, but it's so wonderful."

"It is," he agreed. Whenever he felt like he going to burst from the inside out just from the strength of his emotions he felt toward Molly, she was there to soothe him. He hated feeling like he had no control but he also loved letting go of that control when he made love to her, knowing and trusting that she would ground him if it got to be too much. Sometimes, they'd both let go and allow the whirlwind of their passion to take over. Those were the times they'd both wake up aching, but knowing it had been worth it. The emotional tension had them both coiled up, needing a release.

"Bedroom?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he answered in a breath, ready to shower her with his love, the rest of their murder mystery marathon forgotten.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sherlock's view of Valentine's Day is my view of the holiday. And Murder by Death is one of my fave movies that I grew up watching with my mom. I didn't reveal any spoilers because if y'all haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.


	17. Reassurances

**Author's Note:** Hi, I'm really slow with this fic now and I don't even know if I like this chapter, but I'm too tired to care lol

* * *

"I feel like screaming," Molly said in frustration, walking into the Watsons' home.

"Hello to you too," Mary smirked. Neither woman heard their significant others come in through the door. "Sherlock problems?"

"No—well, sort of," Molly sighed. She buried her head in her hands once she sat at the kitchen table. "It's not him…it's just about him." Sherlock stilled, worried about what was bothering her, but too afraid to hear the words now.

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" Mary asked. John tried to stop Sherlock from leaving, but the detective stealthily slipped back out the door, the doctor following behind him. Neither heard the rest of the conversation.

"Sherlock, where are you going?" John inquired, trying not to shout.

"I just need to think," Sherlock replied in frustration. "Alone, preferably."

"Molly's not having cold feet," John argued.

"And how would you know?" he said coldly. Before John could open his mouth, Sherlock stopped him. "It doesn't matter. If there's a chance that she doesn't want me anymore, then I need to figure things out. Damn it, I need a cigarette!" After he watched Sherlock walk away, John re-entered the house. "Did I just hear Sherlock earlier?" Molly asked him when he entered the kitchen.

"He thinks you don't want to marry him anymore," John sighed. "I don't know where he's gone off too. I know I should've gone after him, but—"

"Oh God, I need to find him, now," Molly told him. "I've gotta go. Give Rosie my love." She left quickly, running down the street Sherlock had gone down minutes earlier.

* * *

Molly found him at Hungerford Bridge, leaning over the railing, fingers raking through his hair in frustration. She said nothing, but immediately came up beside him and wrapped her arms around him. He didn't seem surprised to see her, as he hugged her back immediately. Now his fingers were in her hair, and her face was buried in his neck.

"Please Molly, I'll do whatever it takes. I want to marry you," he told her. "So much."

"Sherlock, I don't have second thoughts. I never did. You should stop eavesdropping before hearing the whole story, mister," Molly teased. "You did nothing wrong, darling."

"I didn't?" he asked.

"No," she assured him. "It's just those idiots like Kitty Reilly and Sally Donovan."

"What happened?" he asked, guiding her to the bench. His tone of voice was as if he was working on a case all of a sudden, but with the hint of concern reserved for only her.

"I'm just so sick of them trying to slander you and our relationship," Molly told him. "I know I shouldn't care…hell, I know that you don't, but sometimes, it just hurts."

"How does it hurt, Molly?" he questioned further, caressing her cheek. "I don't care what they say about me and neither should you."

"Let me put it this way," she began. "How would you feel if someone always slandered me to your face?"

"They better not be slandering you, especially to my face," Sherlock replied all too quickly.

"Exactly! It hurts to hear them say all these terrible things about you when they don't know the first damn thing about you or us," Molly told him. "I just feel very protective of you. I always have."

"Come here," he told her softly, opening his arms to her. Molly slid closer, allowing herself to be enveloped in his embrace. Though they were in public, it didn't seem to faze him one bit. All he cared about was comforting his Molly. From the corner of her eye, she saw a camera flash and knew they'd be in the paper or one of the magazines next week with some false story, but it didn't matter. This love was theirs and only theirs.

If the fake story was replaced with something Sherlock had written for Molly, the general public had no knowledge of it, taking in what ended up being printed. When the future Mrs. Holmes was urged to read the cover story of the paper, she saw the article was addressed to her; not an article, but a letter…a love letter.

 _My Darling Molly,_

 _I know times have been difficult as of late, but we will get through it, no matter what is thrown at us. If anyone reading this perceives that as a threat, then they should take a good, long look at their lives. Some people have said I'm using you and others think our upcoming union is all a show like my faked death, but the truth is that I love you very much, Molly Hooper. You know that. I know that. Our friends and family know that. That's all that matters. Anyone who believes otherwise is a fool._

 _We are to be married next month and I couldn't be happier. Thank you for choosing me. Every single time. Always. You have taught me so much. I'm a better man all because of our love. Somehow, I am worthy enough for you, and I know I am blessed that you agreed to be my wife. There must be a deity if an angel such as yourself exists._

 _Nobody else knows this, not even John, but you are the one constant in my life. You never gave up on me. Not once. Not when my reputation was in ruins by Moriarty's lies, not when we had tragedies thrown our way, and definitely not when I relapsed…twice. You stood by me when others wanted to just give up. We've quite literally been to hell and back, so let's have our piece of heaven together. Just you and me against the world, darling. Just you and me._

 _With all my love,_

 _Sherlock xxx_

Molly's tears fell silently down her cheeks as she read his letter to her, displayed for all to read beneath the photo of him comforting her. This must have been hard for him to do, she was sure. As if he read her mind, he answered her when he entered the lab.

"It wasn't all that hard to do," he assured her. "I want everyone to know that I am completely in love with you, no questions asked."

"You didn't have to do this. Sherlock, this is—" the loss of words made her change her words. "Thank you."

"No," he breathed, "thank you, Molly." Her eyes closed as he pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

"Alright you two, break it up," Stamford teased, walking in. He said it in a way a disapproving dad would but one who secretly didn't mind and was happy to see them together. Needless to say, neither of them heard from the likes of Sally or Kitty questioning their relationship ever again. It was quite possible they might have died (not literally) from shock…at least that's what the consensus was.


	18. One Wild Ride

**Author's Note: I'm back!** **Molly's hen night is upon us! Inspired by episodes 2x03 and 8x12 of One Tree Hill.**

* * *

"Don't get too crazy tonight," Molly teased her fiancé.

"Ah, no worries, I have no interest in the sort of stag night John had," Sherlock replied with a smirk. "We'll just be solving a case or two, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Well now I feel like the odd one," Molly told him.

"I just want you to have fun tonight, Molly Hooper," he spoke softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You deserve it." She smiled at the feel of his lips on her skin. "But not too much fun."

"So no fun with you when I get home?" she asked innocently.

"Not if you're inebriated, no," he replied. "It'll be straight off to bed with you." Molly's phone pinged, a message having come through.

"That'll be Mary," Molly stated. "She and Meena are waiting for me. I love you."

"I love you too," Sherlock said in reply. "Be safe."

"You too."

* * *

"There's the bride!" Mary exclaimed when Molly got in the backseat with her, and Meena who was eating a packet of crisps. Mycroft had provided a car and driver for them tonight.

"We have fun plans for you tonight, Molly!" Meena informed her.

"Should I be scared?" Molly asked, knowing Meena was once a wild child back in her uni days.

"Probably," Mary laughed.

They pulled up in front of a spa moments later, not being what Molly had expected to start off the night with.

"Massages first, partying later," Meena remarked. "You work yourself so hard, so I thought this would be a perfect first stop."

"Well, that just sounds perfect," Molly smiled. "Thank you."

* * *

"I can't believe you're solving cases for your stag night," Greg said.

"Come now, Greg, surely you know me well enough by now," Sherlock replied. "You still get to come along on the actual investigation; that should be fun for you."

"Better than sitting behind a desk," Greg agreed.

"Alright, Mrs. Hudson's got Rosie, and I'm here, so what's the case?" John asked.

"Unfortunately, nothing interesting has come up, so we're spying on a woman's husband," Sherlock sighed.

"Really, mate? An infidelity case? That's the way to celebrate getting married," Greg chuckled.

"Well, we are following him to a bar," Sherlock pointed out. "Maybe something more interesting will happen whilst we're out."

"I hope so," John sighed.

* * *

The girls left the spa, feeling refreshed after their massages and having those surprisingly okay health drinks. Molly had no clue where they were headed to next, but she was so relaxed, she didn't have a care in the world.

"I hope you have your dancing shoes on," Mary told her.

"Are flats dancing shoes?" Molly asked.

"Good enough," Meena replied, "let's go!"

The bass of the music pulsed through the club, making them feel the beat in through their bodies. Mary had already dragged Molly toward the dancefloor, leaving Meena to hunt out her prey for the night. She was the only single girl of the three of them, after all.

Despite Molly's hesitance about the nightclub, she was having a lot of fun with her friends, dancing to the music, and singing the words out loud together.

Sometime later, the girls made a beeline toward the bar for some drinks. Molly was just enjoying her second piña colada, when a woman came up to them, sliding money toward the bartender.

"That's for her drinks," the mysterious woman said, pointing to Molly.

"Oh, I'm engaged, you don't have to buy my drinks," Molly explained.

"I know you're engaged, Molly Hooper," she replied.

Mary's eyes widened.

"Noooo," she said with astonishment. She started laughing.

"I take it you know who I am?" the woman asked. Mary nodded before she threw back a shot. "Good. Though, I'm surprised Doctor Hooper doesn't."

"Should I?" Molly asked.

"The name's Elena," the woman told her. "Elena Rider. Congratulations on your engagement."

Mary knew that Elena Rider was not the woman's real name, but perhaps she could conceal that from Molly for the time being.

"Elena Rider?" Meena asked. "No offense, but it kinda sounds like the perfect stripper name." Elena laughed, not the least bit offended.

"I used to be one, so no offense taken," Elena replied. "I just wanted to send my congratulations to Molly, but it was nice meeting you all."

"Why don't you come with us?" Molly asked. Mary hid her face, after her eyes widened at the suggestion. "It is my hen night, after all."

"I did have somewhere to be, but this sounds more fun," Elena answered.

"Very spontaneous of you, Molls, I'm proud," Meena told her. "Maybe she can give you some pointers."

Molly furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"I think she means pointers on pole dancing," Mary laughed.

"Yeah, I don't know about that," Molly said nervously.

"Come on, live a little," Elena insisted. "Even if you don't like it, you won't have to do it again."

"I guess it couldn't hurt," Molly shrugged before downing the rest of her drink. "Where to, then?"

"I know just the place," Meena and Elena said in unison.

* * *

John and Greg were already buzzed after having spent an ample amount of time at the bar. Sherlock finally caught sight of the woman's husband who had finally entered. The man went to the opposite end of the bar and ordered a drink, obviously looking for someone.

Twenty minutes passed with no sign of infidelity, but curiously enough, the man threw his phone, hitting another patron. That's when the fight broke out. The bartender was already breaking up the fight when Sherlock, John and Greg decided to leave. No infidelity was to be seen.

"So what now?" John asked.

"The Packet," was all Sherlock said, looking down at his phone.

* * *

The girls had decided to hit another pub for more drinks before going to the destination of Elena and Meena's choosing. After a few drinks, they were all a bit tipsy. Molly was definitely having more fun than she assumed she would, but she did miss Sherlock.

"So, Molly, Elena and I thought we'd all go to that lingerie shop down the road. She says they have a pole she can teach you on," Meena told her.

"Hold that thought," Elena said. "I need the ladies' room."

* * *

"Wonder why Sherlock asked us to wait out here," Greg voiced.

"Mm, dunno," John mumbled.

They only had to wait a couple of minutes before Sherlock got back in the car, shaking glitter out of his hair. Instead of being annoyed at the glitter, he looked amused.

"How's this for a case?" Greg asked, showing Sherlock his phone. Sally had texted about a killer on the run.

"It seems that the game is on," Sherlock smirked.

They drove along the street that they were told the suspect was last seen, hoping he hadn't gone too far, and was hiding. Sherlock parked in front of an abandoned house, gesturing for Greg to join him and for John to stay put.

"Why do I need to stay put?" John asked.

"Because you are slightly drunk, and Greg still has his wits about him," Sherlock explained. He locked the car whilst he followed the DI inside. Sure enough, they heard footsteps above them; quiet ones, but footsteps nonetheless.

They slowly made their way up the stairs, not wanting to alert the killer if he was, indeed, up there. A slight breeze was felt from the cracked open door at the end of the hall.

Peering inside, the curtains were being blown around from the wind coming through the now open windows. Sherlock and Greg inched over quietly toward the closet door. A gunshot rang out, the bullet flying right past them and into the wall.

The man revealed himself, attempting to fight them , but Sherlock took him down, unarming him simultaneously. Greg alerted Sally and kept the killer handcuffed for when the rest of the force got there.

"Not bad, Holmes," Sally told him when they brought the suspect out. It was the first—and only—compliment he would ever receive from her.

* * *

"Watch and learn," Elena told them. The girls watched as she used the pole in the shop, clad only in her blood red mini dress and heels. By this time, Molly was quite eager to learn. She briefly wondered what Sherlock would think of this new skill. "Your turn, Molly."

Molly snapped out of her thoughts and jumped up, running toward the pole. Her right hand grabbed onto it, but instead of twirling herself around it, she ended up crash landing onto the chair against the wall behind the pole, laughing all the while.


	19. What Happened Last Night?

The next morning, Molly woke up on Meena's sofa, groggy and with a terrible hangover. Unable to remember what happened last night, she slowly got up. Observing her surroundings, she saw that Meena was asleep on the floor and had a ghastly feather boa around her. Mary was nowhere to be found. She probably went back to her place.

After using the loo, Molly looked at herself in the mirror. She brushed her hair back with her left hand, realizing she had a big light up ring on her finger rather than her actual engagement ring.

"Oh no! No no no no! This can't be happening," Molly panicked. From the sitting room, she heard Mary.

"Molls? Where are you?"

"In the bathroom," Molly replied.

"Is everything alright?" Mary asked.

"Look!" Molly showed her the flashing ring on her finger.

"Oh, God," her eyes widened. "What happened?"

"I don't know! I've been trying to figure that out! I can't remember anything from last night!" Molly was on the verge of a full on panic attack.

"Calm down, it's okay, we'll find the ring, okay? It'll be fine." Mary was soothing her, stroking her hair.

"What's all ta noise? What's wong? Meena asked, spitting a feather out of her mouth.

"Why are you talking like that?" Mary asked. "Do you have a retainer?"

"Huh? I dunno," Meena replied, sticking out her tongue.

"Oh my God, you have a tongue piercing!" Molly exclaimed.

"I do?" Meena quickly took it out.

"What the hell happened last night?" Mary asked.

They walked out to the sitting room, and Molly spotted a receipt on the table.

"It's from a tattoo parlor," she said. "One tongue piercing and one tattoo." They all immediately began checking themselves for ink.

"Found it!" Meena pointed out.

"My ring?" Molly asked.

"Mary's hoe tag!"

"You mean a tramp stamp?" Molly asked with amusement.

"What is it? What's on my back?" Mary was turning every which way.

"It's a small red rose," Meena answered. "Awww for Rosie!"

"Guess it could've been worse," Mary remarked.

Molly spoke up, "well, we can split up and retrace our steps."

"I'll go to the parlor, and you two can go to the pubs," Meena suggested. "We'll find your ring, Molls."

* * *

Once inside the last pub they remembered, Molly and Mary set off to search for the ring. The looked under tables and barstools, and even in the bathroom, but found nothing.

"Hey, excuse me," Mary called out to the bartender. "We lost an engagement ring last night. Did you happen to find one this morning?"

"No, sorry, I haven't seen one," the bartender, Tara, replied. "But hey, how'd it go with that cute guy last night?"

"Me? What cute guy?" Molly asked, panicking again.

"I didn't see his face, but you were definitely enjoying kissing him," Tara answered with a shrug.

They left the pub and sat outside on the steps.

"What am I gonna tell Sherlock?" she cried, tears causing her mascara to run down her face. "I kissed another man!"

"Hey, it may not have been you at all," Mary tried reassuring her. "You probably just look like someone else."

"I can't be certain," Molly told her. "I need to tell Sherlock."

* * *

A knock sounded outside of his door, and Sherlock opened it up to a sobbing Molly.

"Molly, darling, what's wrong?" he asked.

"The wedding's off," she told him.

"Wait ,what? Why?" he was panicking now.

"I,"—she took a deep breath—"I may or may not have kissed someone at the pub last night. I don't even know who it was. And on top of that, I lost my engagement ring, and—"

"You mean, this engagement ring?" Sherlock asked, pulling her ring from his jacket pocket. "I kept it for safekeeping. It was your idea."

"My idea? When did I give that to you?" she inquired.

"Last night, after you snogged the breath out of me," Sherlock laughed. Molly's memory came back and she recalled that moment.

 _"There's my gorgeous consulting detective," she smiled at him._

 _"So, what was so important that I had to come all the way down here?" he asked with amusement._

 _"I needed to tell you something, but it's a secret," she replied._

 _"I'm listening," he encouraged her._

 _"I love you. I mean, I really really love you. I have always loved you for, well, years," Molly told him._

 _"I love you too, honeybee. I've loved you for years even if I didn't realize it as quickly," Sherlock spoke softly._

 _Before another word could be said, Molly's lips were on his and her arms were thrown around his neck._

 _"Surprise glitter attack!" Meena laughed, throwing a pinch of purple glitter at them playfully. "Get a room, you two!"_

 _"I should get going anyways," Sherlock said. "Enjoy the rest of your night, darling. I love you."_

 _"I love you too."_

"Oh my gosh," Molly laughed with relief. "It was you I kissed. Oh thank God. I didn't think I'd ever do something so horrible; and I was right, I didn't."

"Is the wedding back on?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, of course," Molly told him. "I've been waiting to marry you for a long time."

"Yes, I think you've waited long enough," he agreed.

"By the way, do you know an Elena Rider?" Molly inquired. "We kinda invited her to tag along with us last night."

"Damn woman," Sherlock growled.

"What?"

"Elena Ride is an anagram," he explained. "One of the many names used by The Woman."

"The Woman? Irene Adler?" Molly asked.

"The very same," he told her.

"Irene Adler crashed my hen night, bought us drinks, took me lingerie shopping, and taught me—well, tried to teach me—how to pole dance." Molly let that sink in. Sherlock's jaw dropped.

"I think you may have had a little too much fun," he joked. "You look like you've had a long day. I could draw you a bath."

"A bath for both of us?" Molly questioned.

"As you wish."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** 2 chapters in one night, whaaaaaat? lol


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